


I Regular

by umiwomitai



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Android Lucas, Androids, Fluff and Angst, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, artist ten, hints of YangDery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24288823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umiwomitai/pseuds/umiwomitai
Summary: Ten has many beliefs, some wrong, some right. Most he doesn't want to let go off.But when proven wrong times and times over, what choice does he have but to try and find out the truth? And maybe it'll turn out better than he thought, no matter the price.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63
Collections: Weishen Fest: ANYTHING BUT HUMAN





	I Regular

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for the prompt #ABH064. I hope this was a decent rendition of it, I did my best. 
> 
> Prompt: In a world where most hospitality jobs have been taken over by androids, Person A, an artist, spends most of his time at a certain coffee shop while he works on his art. He soon finds that Person B, an android that is his regular server, seems very drawn and intrigued by his art. Person A, despite thinking that all androids were the same despite all having their own unique human looks, begins to think that maybe there’s something more to them than just machinery.

The clock is ticking.

The clock is ticking, and Ten doesn’t remember having ever heard it here before. He lifts his gaze from his sketchbook, eyes looking over the whole room. The sun has set a long time ago, now, and whatever few lights are still on make it hard for him to see the rest of the café properly. He sips the remnants of his cappuccino and taps on the small bell on his table. 

He waits a moment, examining the piece he’s currently working on. Something is bothering him and he can’t quite point out what. He sighs, looking through his reference folder until the waiter arrives to his table. He points at his cup without a word. The waiter takes it just as silently, and Ten doesn’t notice the way he looks back for a second.

Just a second. 

The waiter comes back with a full cup of hot coffee, puts it down after wiping the table. He fills the sugar box and the water pitcher without a noise, without disturbing Ten, without making himself noticed. It’s almost a choreography which would be mesmerising and quite impressing to watch if anyone bothered to.

But no one does. 

No one ever looks, watches, notices the waiters. Or the cashiers. Or anyone else working in the café. It’s not how it’s always been, but it’s all most people have ever known. It’s all Ten has ever known. Granted, he wouldn’t care even if it was socially common to look at all the hospitality workers. Ten isn’t the type to care about things that don’t concern him directly, hence his complete lack of interest for androids. 

They’re taught about androids in school, briefly. What they are, what they do, and that’s about it. It’s hard to take any interest in the matter when everything is done in order for students not to care. Ten, who never listened in class, doesn’t remember any of that. What he knows of androids, he’s learned by himself.

Sadly, it’s not necessarily the better option. 

“Do you need anything else?”

“It’s all.” 

No thank you. They don’t need it. 

The waiter - whose name tag displays Lucas, but Ten hasn’t looked - doesn’t even expect him to say thanks. He never has, because no one has ever said it anyway. He may not be the brightest, but he’s smart enough to know it’s not worth waiting hopelessly for something that will never come. 

He leaves, goes back to his work. He leaves, and Ten goes back to his work.

All is fine. All is normal. All is the way it’s supposed to be. 

Ten should think about it more, should make sure to appreciate it as it would be the last time that coming to the café feels normal. But he doesn’t, because things aren’t supposed to change, and Ten has always lived his life as it was supposed to be. 

Separated from androids. 

Safe. 

* * *

The next time sure doesn’t feel any different at first. 

It’s one of those days where Kun has decided to come along. It’s raining outside and they put their umbrellas in the rack next to the door, knowing that they will be dry by the time they’re ready to leave. They step towards their usual table, chatting softly, and settle there. Kun takes off his coat and puts it on the hanger near the booth; Ten merely throws his on one of the spare seats. 

He takes out his tablet, his laptop and his sketchbook while Kun finishes telling him about the latest exposition he’s attended. 

“It was brilliant. I still don’t understand why you refused to come, I’m sure you would have loved it.”

“I was on the other side of the city, Kun.” 

Kun sighs, putting his glasses higher up on his nose. He doesn’t say it, because he doesn’t want to do it now, but he’s exasperated by his attitude. Ten knows, but once again, he doesn't care. He loves Kun, as much as he can love a friend, but he doesn’t take all his nagging. 

“Still, Ten. This piece I wrote about was worth seeing, it’s a shame it’s not presented anymore. You really missed something”

“Which artist?” Ten asks absent-mindedly, plugging his tablet to his laptop. 

“TY,” and on Kun’s face can be read that he knows exactly what his friend’s reaction is going to be. He isn’t mistaken.

“TY isn’t an artist. Androids can’t be.”

It’s cold, cutting through the thick air of the café like a sword. It’s icy, heavy with the hate and disdain Ten holds for the matter. He spits his words like he would on the android’s face if he were to stand in front of him and they land on the waiter’s shoulders, who stops his hand mid-air. 

It lasts for a second, even less, but for this moment, Lucas stands there, mortified, words of hate dawning on him like knives sinking in the skin of his chest. For a second, even less, Lucas doesn’t feel human anymore. For a second, even less, Lucas is brought back to the cold reality of his condition, and the oh so common hate he gets for it. 

But it’s gone just as fast, and his hand lands on his electronic pad, voice monotonously asking the two men for their orders. And of course, Ten doesn’t notice. He never does. 

Yet for once, someone does notice. 

Someone who isn’t Kun, giving a look of compassion to the waiter whose name he took the time to read. Someone who isn’t the other waiter, looking over from the other side of the room, because he heard those words loud and clear. Someone who isn’t one of the other customers, the ones who don’t care, the ones who won’t bother raising their voice, the ones who are too comfortable sitting there with their privilege to even look at them. 

But someone does notice, and that’s all that matters. It will matter eventually, at least.

* * *

Lucas goes on with his day at the café, and Ten goes on with his work. 

Everything seems so normal it almost comes at a surprise when someone enters the café loudly. The cashier looks at them, ready to greet them with his eternally monotonous service voice, but words get caught in his throat. He looks at this person, eyes shining and voice lost. The person walks up to the counter, all smile and crazy hair, dirty hands landing on the top of the counter. 

“Hey, Dery.”

If Ten were to look up at this exact moment, he’d notice how the cashier’s face changes entirely. He turns red and his eyes shine even more and a smile peaks out, making him look so much more human, so much more  _ normal _ , that it’s impossible to notice a difference between him and the man in front of him. 

But Ten doesn’t look, adding another stroke to his drawing. 

“Why are you here so early?”

“I finished sooner than I thought, so I figured I’d just come hang out here until your shift is over,” the man shrugs, expression turning smug. He tries to grab the cashier’s hands but he moves away, almost looking scared. Unbothered, the man smiles at him. “Can you bring me a cup of coffee?” 

“Of course,” the cashier answers softly, as soft as if he were saying sorry, and the other goes to take a seat. 

Lucas, from his side of the café, looks at the cashier. His eyes aren’t shining anymore, but his hands are shaking just slightly. Lucas knows where to look, because he knows him. Granted, if Ten - or anyone else - were to look at him too, he would know. Because android bodies don’t have flaws like human bodies do: their eyes don’t get tired, their breathing doesn’t get heavy, their head doesn’t feel too light, their hands don’t shake. 

They aren’t supposed to.

But right there, in the middle of the café, behind his cash register, Hendery the android cashier feels his hands start to shake as he tries to make the man a cup of coffee. 

And it should be enough to make anyone curious. It should be enough to make Ten notice and think something is off. It should be enough to make Ten start reconsidering his thoughts about what androids are, or are supposed to be. It would, if only he looked up from his laptop towards the counter in the middle of the café. It would, but it doesn’t, because at this exact moment, Ten is too focused on finishing the commission that is almost due. 

Because at this exact moment, Ten wouldn’t care, and it all would go to waste. 

Because things are starting to change, to feel less normal, and there is still someone who notices, from his seat across Ten. And if it’s not time for Ten to rock his own world yet, it is still time for someone to start the process for him. 

* * *

  
  


Ten and Kun end up being the last customers in the café by the time they start closing. Ten is still finishing his piece, Kun is simply sipping his eighteenth cup of coffee of the day while answering his emails. It’s a set routine for them, just like how the café workers clean the room around them. 

It’s set, it’s how it was thought out to be, and Ten doesn’t think for a second that he should hurry up or finish later just so the employees don’t have to wait for them to get out. 

Kun does.

“We should pack up, Ten, it’s getting late,” and he doesn’t wait for an answer, already getting up and brushing the crumbs off his pants. Fancy dress pants Ten bought him for his birthday a few years ago. 

“I’m almost done,” he mumbles, biting on his finger as he works through his art piece layer by layer. 

“Ten, they’re closing.”

Ten does look up, eyes falling on the cashier wiping the counter, and their waiter - whose name he still hasn’t bothered to read - put the last chair on the last table. They’re basically done, actually, save for the spot they’ve occupied for the whole day, and that thought should bother him. There should be this spark of embarrassment, this jolt of awkwardness because, yes, they’re  _ waiting  _ for them to leave. 

But it isn’t here. Instead, Ten raises an eyebrow, tongue clicking. 

“They’re not closed yet, so I can stay.”

It shows on Kun’s face, for a whole minute, the exasperation and anger Ten causes him. The frustration he’s been bottling up, the annoyance that has been building up and that he’s carefully pushed aside every time, because what would be the point? Tonight, he doesn’t want to try and spare Ten’s feelings. Tonight, he is too tired to find the right words and water down his feelings. 

“Can you stop being a stuck up bitch for a second and just get your rude ass off this chair and leave with me?”

The silence appears stuffier after he’s done talking, not a single noise being heard in the room. Here he stands, looking at his friends who is looking back, face contorted in an unusual expression. It’s not really shock, though it can be seen: it’s offense. Ten is easy to talk to, even easier to joke with, but he has quite some pride, and he also easily takes offense. But never with Kun. Either because he loves him so much, or because Kun is ever so careful. 

This time is different. 

This time, everything is different. 

Because Ten doesn’t get angry. It stung, it hurts now, and he doesn’t want to show it. So his eyes look back down at his screen, and with the most standoffish voice he can muster, he says:

“I can’t, so leave without me.”

Kun sighs, and all his tiredness weighs on him like the whole world on Atlas’ shoulders. So he goes to the counter and pays, not sparing a look at his friend. 

“I’m sorry for staying so late,” he tells the boy, not really sure why. It takes the boy a moment to find the appropriate answer.

“No problem, sir.”

“I mean it,” Kun stresses, face to face. “My friend is probably going to stay a little longer, so please accept the tip.”

Tips aren’t this common anymore, because for some reason, people were convinced androids didn’t need to be thanked for their services. Kun hasn’t forgotten, and makes sure to tip every single time he has to, but he does give some more tonight. Because he really is sorry. Because the boy is looking at him with a shocked face, and he refuses to believe this simple act isn’t making a difference. 

Because Ten won’t when he should. 

Lucas comes up to the counter with the last tray of cups and glasses, and looks at his hand over the tip jar. Words are on his lips, teeth biting, but he doesn’t ask, doesn’t say anything. 

Kun leaves in silence, and behind remain his friend, and two speechless boys. 

* * *

  
  


When Ten does leave, everything is silent outside. 

All the other restaurants and cafés in the street are closed, and even the one he’s just left is shut and dark now. He sighs, looking through his bag for his phone. Kun must have sent hundreds of messages to make sure he’s gone home safely, and he wants to reassure him, but he can’t seem to be able to find his phone.

“Where the fuck did I put it?”

“Are you looking for this?”

He turns around. Just out of the neighbouring street, a man is standing. It’s dark in this part of the street, the only source of light coming from behind him, and he looks freakishly tall in front of Ten. In his extended hand, Ten sees his phone. He looks up at the man again, eyebrows frowned. 

“How did you get that?”

“You left it inside,” the man answer monotonously, motioning for the café near them. 

“And how did you know it was mine?” 

Ten knows he probably shouldn’t be sassing out a complete stranger this late at night when he’s alone and has no way of protecting himself, but somehow his pent up frustration is speaking for him. The man sighs loudly, putting his hands back into his jacket pockets. He looks exhausted and obviously doesn’t have the motivation to put up with Ten’s antics. 

“If you bothered to just look at the waiters, you’d have noticed I work there. I know it’s yours because you spent half the day at your usual table doing nothing but drawing and being mean.”

“Excuse me, what?”

Ten doesn’t think he can remember ever hearing one single android speaking to a Regular like this. He doesn’t take himself for what he isn’t, but androids aren’t supposed to talk to him with such rude words. He scoffs, not believing it. 

“I can’t believe it, how dare you talk to me like that?”

“Like what?”

The android raises an eyebrow, not bothered an inch by Ten’s offended tone. Ten really wishes Kun would have stayed with him so he could use him as an excuse to leave, because he clearly doesn’t want to suffer one more minute of this conversation. Yet he does stay here, in the middle of the pavement, shivering in the cold midnight air. 

“Don’t you forget I’m a Regular,” Ten almost threatens, with nothing but his words. He doesn’t weight much and doesn’t impress anyone, even less this guy. 

“So what?” he simply shrugs, smiling. “What are you gonna do, ugh? You’re no one here, no more than usual, and I’m not obligated to serve you anymore. Time’s up, boy.”

The slap of the humiliation hits him hard, and suddenly he’s glad they are alone. He’d rather die than have anyone witness this embarrassing conversation. He shoves his phone back in his bag, ignoring any text that could be on it, and tries to walk past the man. It’s only now that he notices two other boys leaning against the wall, just a few meters away from them. 

“I can’t believe you’re being this rude to me. You feel bolder when I’m alone, is that it?”

He turns around, hands shoved in his jacket, before looking back at Ten with raised eyebrows. The wind is playing with his hair, making the purple neon light reflect on it. He sighs softly, almost laughing, and it stings more than the cold air around him. 

“I don’t need that to feel powerful, you know. I simply care enough about my job to know how to behave with a customer. You’re not a customer here anymore, it’s that simple.”

Ten feels the conversation shift at his disadvantage. It’s hard to admit, but he figures he has better thing to do than to argue with this stupid android who thinks he’s better than him. He shrugs it off, trying to look as unbothered as the other is. 

“Whatever.”

With a turn, he crosses the street, making sure no one is following him. At the corner of his vision, he sees the android smile and walk to the two boys he assumes are his friends. 

Damn, he really needs sleep. 

* * *

  
  


The next time he goes to the coffee shop is on a sunny day. The kind of day when staying inside is the least thing you want to do. 

Ten sits at the same table every time but he first chose it for days like this one. The light filters through the white curtain, playing in hair and casting beautiful reflection through the tainted glass of his cup of coffee. It’s the dreamy feeling he fell in love with the first time, and the striking beauty he found again on the second, and the mesmerizing novelty that makes him come back every time. Because no matter how many sunny days, no matters how many coffee cups, it’s always different. 

This time is different too. 

Just not in the way he expected. 

He sits softly and orders his usual drink without a look. He has already taken out his sketchbook by the time the waiter brings it. He looks up, half expecting to see the same waiter as usual. It’s not. Flustered by his own thought, he mumbles an apology and turns to his work again. 

After an hour or two, once he’s focused enough to have lost track of time, he finds Kun sitting in front of him. 

“I was expecting you.”

“I know,” he sighs heavily, dropping his bag on the floor. He motions for the waiter and asks for a hot cup of lemon tea with a spoonful of honey, _ please.  _ “I knew I’d find you here.”

Ten hears him shuffle around but he doesn’t budge, sipping his coffee absentmindedly. He knows his friend has something to say so he simply waits for him to get it out of his system. 

“You didn’t send in your submission for the exposition.” 

“Indeed,” Ten acknowledged, knowing perfectly well that Kun was already gritting his teeth trying hard not to get angry with him. 

“You know I need your art for this, right?”

“Right,” Ten mumbles, oddly letting his tone suspend into the air. “Is it really important, though?” 

“Ten, we’ve talked this over way too many times,” Kun sighs, this time with all the tiredness he really feels. 

Because they’ve really talked it over way too many times, and they should be over it, but Ten finds some misplaced pleasure in torturing his friend over and over again. Kun is sure, at this point, that he enjoys seeing him try and convince him to do things the way he wants, and not the way Ten intents to. Ten would be so much easier to deal with as an artist if only he weren’t so bitchy about absolutely everything. 

They’ve been preparing this exposition for months now, and everything is almost ready for the opening night. Almost. Except Ten, of course. Because he finds ways to argue about everything and anything. Kun knows how to deal with him best, but it doesn’t mean it’s easy. It doesn’t mean he likes it. It doesn’t mean that, sometimes, he would love to have his best friend in front of him, and not just that selfish prick of an artist. 

“I know, Kun. I sent everything this morning,” Ten ends up saying, all teeth and gums, head leaning on his hand. Kun wants to slap him. 

“Good. Warn me maybe, next time, so I don’t walk half the city looking for you trying to get those damned paintings ready on time.”

“Will do so,” and Ten is already focused back on his work, ignoring the world around him. 

“I have also sent you the invite and the detailed dress code, so please make sure to arrive on time and dressed properly.”

“Oh, I’m not going sweetheart.”

“Right. See you next Friday.”

Kun takes his empty cup back to the counter and pays for his drink, leaving a tip as usual, not noticing how Ten is looking at his reflection in the window. Ten doesn’t remember when Kun started giving tips, and even though he’s been wondering about it since the first day, he’s been too stubborn about it. 

He thinks back to the waiter from the other day and his throat clenches. He knows what Kun would say about the situation, and he knows he’d be right. 

He hates when Kun is right because it means he is wrong. 

* * *

He leaves the coffee shop at closing time. 

He sees the waiters cleaning the tables and storing away the chairs to wash the floor. Tomorrow is their closing day. They do that once a month, to clean everything and do the inventory. Ten hates those days, because he has to make coffee on his own, and it’s never really the same. 

No matter if he won’t ever admit it, he loves this place more than his own apartment. 

He walks up to the counter to pay for his drinks. Behind it is the cashier from the other day, and Ten assumes that he must be the cashier from all the other days. He just never paid attention before. 

Ignoring the pang of guilt tugging at his heart, he clears his throat and puts down his cup noisily, making sure the boy notices him. He does, and blushes, walking up to him to retrieve the cup. He takes his money, and fumbles to get him his change. 

“Here you go, sir. Let me remind you that we will be closed tomorrow.”

“Yes, I know.” Ten hesitates for a second, looking at the boy. His red cheeks and flustered expression are so true, so honest, Ten wouldn’t know if he were a Regular or not. Maybe that’s what makes him ask the question burning his tongue. “Excuse me if it’s rude, but is it important to leave tips?”

The boy -Hendery, his name tag reads- is looking at him with round eyes, gaping mouth, and cheeks even redder than before. He looks puzzled for a moment, and just before Ten shakes off his question, he answers softly. 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Wow, it’s so embarrassing,” Ten mumbles, but goes on. “I have this friend, you know, who leaves tips every single time, and he’s the only person I know who does that. So, I simply wondered if it mattered for you.”

“It… it does, actually,” the cashier admitted softly, almost as if he didn’t want to be heard. “Most of us don’t get tips, sir. I…”

“Yes?” 

And Ten isn’t sure what drives him to make sure this boy tells him what he wants, but he’s looking so lost and flustered and so normal, so much like a Regular. So much like him. 

So he hunched closer, smiling softly, trying to get rid of the nagging feeling of uneasiness he himself feels. 

“I’m not allowed to ask of you to tip, but please be sure that whatever money you’re willing to give will be greatly appreciated,” Hendery says firmly, all polite words and respectful tone. 

Ten nods in response, drops his change in the tip jar, and leaves without one more word. 

That night, he spends thirty minutes sorting his outfit for the opening night he won’t attend.

Just in case. 

* * *

  
  


He doesn’t see Lucas for a week. 

He isn’t sure why. He can’t tell if it’s normal for him not to be at the café all the time, as he never paid attention before. He can’t tell if it’s normal that he now pays attention to it so much. He can’t tell anything as far as he’s concerned, except that he comes in every day, sits at his usual table, and the waiter that serves him his usual drink isn’t Lucas. 

It’s almost upsetting, as he had been trying to think of a proper way to apologise, which he had never done before. Not to an android. Lucas’s absence makes him want to scream and cry, and maybe tell Kun that he is wrong, he doesn’t have any good reason to apologise, and that he’s right to assume he’s better than androids, because it’s true. 

But there is Hendery the cashier, who smiles to him a little more honestly than before, and thanks him with a nod and another smile every time he leaves a tip. There is Hendery, who greets him almost happily when he enters the shop. There is Hendery, who he remembers now was there on that night, standing in the shadow of the small street next to the shop, and doesn’t seem to resent him. 

There is Hendery, who is starting to prove him that he is, in fact, probably better than Ten has ever tried to be.

When he goes up to the counter this evening, sorting his change to leave his usual tip, he notices Hendery looking at a stack of papers. He can’t help looking too, hand stopping over the tip jar as he notices they’re drawings. Hendery sees him looking and, flustered as usual, puts the papers back into a cardboard box and straightens up. 

“Do you need something?”

“Hm? I’m fine, thank you,” Ten says, still stuck in his own thoughts, until he snaps back to reality. “Wait. Reconsidering it, I think I do need something.”

“Of course, sir,” Hendery replies politely, still as lost as always. 

“That waiter, Lucas, could you tell me when is his next shift?”

“Lu- Lucas? Hm, could I ask why you need that?”

Ten starts regretting his inquiry. He really hates admitting when he is wrong, especially in front of a stranger. But he  _ has  _ been wrong, and he needs to do right now so he can sleep properly again. Not that this whole story is keeping him up at night. Of course not. 

“I want to apologise to him.”

As usual, Hendery looks at him for a long, silent moment, all of his shock brightly displayed on his face. It took him almost a whole minute to pull himself together and bring back his polite, professional smile. 

“Lucas will be there tomorrow. I’ll make sure to have him at your table as soon as you arrive, sir.”

“That would be very kind, thank you. Have a good evening, Hendery.”

Hendery fumbles a flustered answer as Ten is leaving the shop. The outside air is fresh and humid, but the rain has stopped for now. Hanging his umbrella on his wrist, Ten walks slowly back to his apartment, trying to think of what he’ll really say to the waiter the next day.

What was he thinking?

Obviously, he wasn’t. 

* * *

  
  


Ten doesn’t know what to expect the next day. 

But surely, Lucas greeting him with his usual order and a big smile isn’t what he expected. 

He sits down softly, bag falling on the next sit with a deaf sound. As soon as the waiter puts his cup down his hands curl around it, warming up. It’s not really cold outside but he forgot to take a jacket and the weather still isn’t shirt appropriate. He remains silent for a moment, and the waiter does too. Until Ten decides to take out his art supplies while talking, figuring that focusing on something else will help get over the fact that he’s about to apologise. 

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“I was told so, sir.” 

“The other day, in front of the café… I was rude to you.”

He stays silent, looking right at him, while Ten persists in avoiding eye contact. Everything is well. 

“I wanted to apologise for that.”

“Are you sure?”

Ten looks up. The man standing next to his table appear surprised, but smiles. This kind of thing must be quite rare, after all. Regulars are known for being awful pricks with androids, and very few take the time to acknowledge them at all. Or at least, that’s what Ten’s been taught to do. 

But he remembers Kun. Kun with his polite smiles. Kun with his regular tips. Kun with his faith in android artists. Kun’s persistent and incessant pleads to display android artworks at the museum. Kun’s exasperated sighs every time Ten dismisses androids. Kun, his best friend in the entire world, who’s always trying and always right. 

He swallows back his hesitation and nods. 

“Yes, I am. I rarely say things I don’t mean.”

The waiter smiles again, and bows slightly. 

“Thank you. You were already forgiven, but I appreciate the thought.”

“Of course.”

Ten nods politely and turns back to his sketchbook. He is a bit late on his schedule now, but he’ll just have to leave a little later. It’ll be fine. 

Focused back on his work, Ten doesn’t notice lingering eyes on his hands. 

Focused back on Ten, Lucas doesn’t notice lingering eyes on him. 

* * *

  
  


Friday morning. 

Ten regrets every decision that brought him to this exact moment, standing in the middle of his apartment with Sicheng looking through his closet. The sun is still timidly stretching its light over the wooden floor, Ten feels it on the back of his ankles. His bare feet are feeling too cold but he doesn’t say anything, waiting for Sicheng to chose something.

Anything.

He doesn’t care about his outfit, and he supposes that it’s why his friend is here, after all. He hasn’t seen Sicheng in such a long it’s almost uncomfortable to have him over. 

“Put this on.” 

Ten does so. Once he’s dressed and standing in front of the mirror, he nods. He does look appropriately good enough for an official work event. 

“No need to thank me.”

“As if I would,” Ten mumbles, putting his pyjamas aside. “When did you come back?”

“Yesterday. I’m only here for the opening night, I’m leaving again tomorrow.” 

“How is it, there?”

Sicheng seems thoughtful for a second, eyes looking out the window. Ten can remember the first time he saw his friend standing the same way, at the same place, when they had first visited this apartment.

Back when Ten wouldn’t make a decision without first asking his friends. Back when Sicheng wasn’t travelling around the whole world for his gigs. Back when Kun was too stressed out about his studies to party with them. Back when Ten was stupid and proud and too young to know better.

Now Ten isn’t that young anymore, but he isn’t too sure he knows better. 

* * *

  
  


It’s 6 o’clock on his watch when he meets up with Kun at the café. 

His order is already waiting for him, Kun sorting through his papers in front of his empty seat. It’s almost too trivial to meet up like this, as if this Friday was of no importance for both of them. 

Ten sits down but doesn’t take off his coat. They’ll leave soon. 

“You dressed fancy,” Kun observed with something a little too close to disdain. 

“Sicheng made me.”

“I didn’t know he was coming,” he answers, closing his attaché case with a click of his tongue. Bad mood. 

“You sent him the invite.”

His friend shrugs his remark off, standing up. He looks more exhausted each day, Ten can’t wait for this even to be over and done with. He wants his friend back. 

“I sent plenty of invites, Ten.”

Ten doesn’t address the attention Kun puts in pretending he doesn’t care whether Sicheng attends or not. They’ve been avoiding the topic for years now and Ten clearly isn’t one to burst the bubbles of denial. If ever, he’d probably be the type to pretend nothing had happened too. It’d be hypocritical of him to blame either of his friends for their behaviour. 

They walk up to the counter and Hendery smiles at them. 

For the past two weeks, both him and Lucas have been more friendly than ever, and even if Ten is reluctant to associate with androids, he doesn’t dare say a thing about it. In fact, he does appreciate the extra dose of attention. It’s not every day that an android shows special care for a customer, especially not for those who, like Ten before his apology, don’t bother to pay attention to them. He supposes he can appreciate it while it lasts. 

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Hm, I saw there is the opening for your new exhibition tonight.”

“Indeed,” and the smile Kun gives is tired but grateful. 

“May I wish could luck then. Both of you.” 

They thank him and turn to leave the shop. They reach the door and Kun is holding it open for Ten when Lucas calls for him. He turns around, almost upset. 

“My apologies. I simply wanted to wish you could luck for tonight.” 

“Oh.”

It’s all Ten knows how to say, because sincerely, he can’t process what is happening. He stands in the way for a moment, Lucas looking at him expectantly, Kun holding the door impatiently. He stands in the way and doesn’t move, not trusting what his brain is telling him to do. Not trusting what his mouth is trying to say. 

He ends up not saying anything, leaving with his tongue burning with the words he meant to tell. 

He ends up not saying anything, which shouldn’t matter half as much as it does when he lays awake that night. 

* * *

  
  


“I’m not going anywhere for the next twenty years…” 

Ten grumbles and complains to Kun on the phone, slowly working his way through the crowd of people waiting for their bus just in front of the café. He supposes that it helps business, to have the bus stop so close to the shop, but he truly hates having to walk past so many people to go his way. 

He steps in with a deep sigh. His headache hasn’t been leaving him for the past two days and even his sunglasses aren’t helping ease the pain pounding at his eyes. He even ignores Hendery’s greeting as he walks to his usual table. He drops heavily, half wanting to drop his head on the table and sleep for the rest of the afternoon. 

He does do that, for half of the afternoon, after having worked until his eyes couldn’t see clear anymore. He is pretty sure he has put on an alarm, but it’s a hand that shakes him awake. 

“Sir?” 

Ten blinks the sleep away, groaning when the light hits his eyes. It takes him almost a whole minute before he is able to open them properly and he is met with the half worried, half amused face of the cashier. 

“I’m sorry to wake you up, but it’s already closing time.” 

“Ugh…” Ten manages to answer, looking at his watch. It is, indeed, closing time, and he’ll have to figure out later how he managed to sleep through his alarm because he has to catch the last bus. “Thank you, Hendery.”

The cashier goes back to his tasks, and Ten starts retrieving all his belongings. As comfortable as his coat and laptop are, he still has to go back home and sleep in a proper bed. He downs the rest of his cold latte and puts on his coat, yawning. Despite not having planned to sleep for so long, he has to say he loves the café at this hour. 

Everything is so silent, so empty, almost intimate, and he feels like a kid who has wandered in the secret forbidden part of an old magic castle. It smells like coffee and cleaning products and mint, and he sort of doesn’t want to leave anymore. 

With a snort directed at his silly thoughts, he lifts his bag to go pay his note. Hendery smiles at him, accepting his tip with a soft smile, before going back to his cleaning the counter. Ten stands in front of the counter for a moment, buttoning his coat while his eyes wander around the room. 

His gaze falls on Lucas sitting at one of the tables at the back. He didn’t notice him sooner for the sole reason he can’t see him from his seat near the window, but now he sees him properly. He’s hunched over some paper, expression focused and fingers working fast. He sees him, and watches him, as if what his eyes were showing him couldn’t possibly be true. He walks closer, still so entranced, and tries not to make a sound. 

His eyes linger, the same way the ones he never noticed did.

There are things he knows. There are some other that he believes are true. There are few that he knows aren’t true but still chooses to believe. Because it’s safer. Because it’s too hard not to. Because he doesn’t care enough. Because admitting he’s lived so long convinced of something so wrong would be soul-crushing. 

But right in front of his eyes, an android is drawing. 

Not copying. Not doodle-ing. 

Actual consistent, detailed, impressive art is all over the sheet of paper Lucas is desperately trying to hide from him. For a second, Ten is mesmerised. The next second, he hates it all. He hates this, he hates his beliefs, he hates himself. He wants to scream until his throat hurts, he wants to cry and laugh at his own mistakes, he wants to hit Lucas in the face and ask,  _ why.  _

He doesn’t.

Somehow, he stands there speechless, watching as Lucas puts his drawings away, face red and embarrassed. Mortified. Both of them. 

“Did you see that? Please pretend you didn’t. Please.”

Ten doesn’t understand what is happening, except that he is a fool for letting himself believe what old, cranky and racist male told him when he was a kid. Ten doesn’t understand why Lucas would ask for him to pretend like nothing has happened, like he wasn’t drawing, like he hasn’t figuratively punched Ten in the guts. But he nods, because he desperately needs to pretend that he didn’t see it too. 

He needs to pretend he isn’t wrong. 

So he nods, again and again, until Lucas stops looking so scared. Hopefully he doesn’t look like this either. 

“Thank you.”

* * *

  
  


Ten doesn’t know how long he sits at the bus stop.

Long enough that the first shadow he notices is Lucas’s. He turns a bit and looks at him. Properly looks at him. He is tall, and usually stand like he knows he is. Tonight he looks a bit sad, trying to make himself disappear in the layers of his clothes. If Ten were to be honest, he’d say he looks good, insanely good, and that no android should be allowed to look that good. Ten rarely is honest about his own feelings. 

Ten stands up but doesn’t move, not really knowing what he’s supposed to do, what he’s supposed to say. So he doesn’t. 

“Can we talk a bit?” 

Lucas ends up breaking the silence and his voice comes out steady. Ten isn’t sure his will be the same. 

“Here?”

“Of course not,” Lucas says with a shrug, and he sees him smiling a bit. 

There is still the neon from the shop next door playing in his hair. The soft purple in his light brown hair, the shadows on his face, the sparkles in his eyes. Nothing has ever looked more human. Ten is even more confused than before. 

“Where then?” he sighs, tired. His neck still hurts from sleeping on a table. 

“Follow me.”

* * *

  
  


He follows and they end up at Lucas’s apartment. 

It’s just one street from the café, right at the edge of the fancier parts of the city. Fancier in the way that none of the androids live there, either because they can’t afford it or they’re being rejected when trying to find a proper house. Ten knows of this, after having to go through thorough check-ins regarding his life and upbringing. Somehow, it had slipped his mind that this background check mostly meant that there were profiles that wouldn’t be accepted, and that this exact profile was most likely to be “android” rather than “murderer” or “unreliable”. 

Inside it’s mostly like anyone’s apartment, and really, Ten thinks that it could be anyone’s. It’s bland, clean and devoid of any personal item. Ten wonders if all android apartments are like this or if Lucas is just the most uninteresting person in the world. He smiles at the thought, imagining going through the trouble of creating a fake human being only to scrap their personality and decide they won’t have any. 

“Want something to drink?” Lucas asks as he takes off his shoes. At least he is a proper host. 

“I’m fine. I just want to be done with this and go back home.”

Lucas nods and goes to the kitchen. Ten doesn’t follow, sitting on the couch. This is the most awkward situation he’s ever found himself in, and he sure knows what he’s talking about. Lucas comes back with a big glass of iced coffee and scones, which he knows come from the café. 

“Are you allowed to take the leftovers?” he asks, grabbing one of them off the plate. 

“I stole them,” Lucas replies with a smile, and Ten knows he’s probably fucking with him but he believes him for a second. 

“I see.”

“You really have no idea how we live, right?”

Ten scoffs, not nearly as offended as he makes himself appear, but he appreciates giving a twisted image of himself. It’s safer. 

“Why would I know?” he says to annoy him, but Lucas simply bursts out laughing. 

“We’re not going there. We need to talk.”

“Right,” Ten mumbles, turning to face the wall. His legs are crossed and his fingers getting rid of the last crumbs of scones. 

“You shouldn’t have seen that.”

“What, are you going to kill me then?”

Ten doesn’t know what generates such amount of confidence. Probably the rush of adrenaline coming with knowing he may be in power in this conversation. 

“I wouldn’t bring you into my apartment to do that.”

“Indeed, that would be foolish of you,” Ten admits, biting into another scone. “Do you have any tea that’s worth something?”

The android looks at him for a second or two, not answering, before walking back to the kitchen. Following him with his gaze, Ten finally notices the two photographs carefully framed hanging on the wall. He can’t see properly from where he is sitting and the temptation is here, ever-growing inside of him. The curiosity that led him to walk here unquestioning. The curiosity that makes him stay and wait for Lucas to tell him what he needs, even though he never really cared. 

He gives in the moment Lucas comes back with a cup of hot tea and the photographs are immediately forgotten. They drink in silence for a moment, Ten pretending like he doesn’t mind sitting in a stranger’s living room, drinking tea and being petty. Lucas ends up sighing, putting his cup down noisily. 

“I need you to promise you won’t talk about this to anyone,” and despite how much he doesn’t care, Ten easily picks up how serious it is. 

“Why would I do this?”

“Because I’m asking nicely.” 

Lucas is borderline desperate in his tone but his face is not showing anything. He is stoical, expression harder than before. This and the small sparkle in his eyes are the only signs that he is ready to beg. Ten would find it extremely funny if he had any clue why a couple of drawing could bring him to such desperate measures. 

He knows for sure that only a matter of life or death would make him beg an android to help him so he can only assume it’s the same for them. 

“I get that. I need you to clarify something,” Ten questions, grabbing yet another scone off the plate, “in what way exactly would it harm you if I were to mention what I saw to someone?”

In the bright fake yellow light, Lucas’s hair appear more blond than brown and Ten wonders if it would feel just the same as his if he ran his hands through it. If it would hurt if he pulled. If it would curl back into place if he tried to style it differently. 

“You really have no idea what it’s like to be an android, now, do you?”

Ten scoffs but doesn’t lie. 

“I only know what we were taught in school.” 

“So you know nothing,” Lucas whispers with a smile, and maybe his eyes are watering a bit. Or maybe it’s just the reflect of the light in them. “I’m not an expert, and I can only tell what it’s been for me, but it’s not the easy, planned-out life you Regulars like to pretend we have.”

At this, Ten wants to protest, yet he is quick to realise he can’t. It is exactly what they’re taught in school and through their whole life. Maybe it was simply made so they wouldn’t try and look further than this. Lucas rises from his seat, walking to a bookshelf. There, he looks through a few books before bringing a tall, slim white one. 

A photobook. 

He sits back down and flips through the pages. Ten wants to ask but knows better than to let his curiosity show. He stops near the end. There are two pictures but Lucas takes out only one and hands it to Ten. It’s just two boys, much younger than them, standing next to each other. They’re smiling and laughing, and behind them, standing in the light, is a man. Ten recognises the two boys.

“That’s you and Hendery, right?”

“Yes.”

“And who is that?” Ten asks, eyes fixed on the man. He looks old and worn out, face exhausted by the sun and the years. He doesn’t smile but his presence is friendly, almost. 

“Our creator. This photo was taken on the day we were bought out.” 

The words sink deep in Ten’s ears. He’s always known and it had never bothered him in the slightest, but it’s an entirely different feeling to have someone look you dead in the eyes, with the most human look, and tell you they were sold to whatever businessman had fancied having an android at the time. He has to try three times before he can swallow properly. 

“For the café?”

“Yeah. Of course, we couldn’t work there at first. Too young. No matter how cruel Regulars are, your lot still seem to have some sort of morals left when it comes to child labour.”

A joke is burning to tip of his tongue but he doesn’t speak it. He can’t predict what Lucas’s reaction would be and doesn’t want to risk upsetting him. He watches as he sighs once again, leaning against the couch. 

“This man created us, Ten, for one purpose. Work. But we’re just like you in every other aspect. We eat, we sleep, we dream, we laugh and cry and, yes, we can create too.”

How many times has Lucas heard him claim the contrary to Kun? Ten can’t count and doesn’t want to. Being told so forthrightly that he’s been wrong all along is a stinging feeling Ten hates more than everything, he doesn’t want to dwell on it more than necessary. 

“I don’t get your point.”

“We’re almost human, but not really, and because of that we are treated differently. We are only allowed to do whatever job we’ve been assigned and then go back home and rest until the next day.”

“Isn’t that what you were born to do?”

“Isn’t it the same for you?”

Ten looks at Lucas, unbelieving. 

“Be careful with what you’re insinuating.”

“I’m not insinuating anything, it’s the truth. Whether because of your parents or the society, some things are expected of you as soon as you’re born and not all of you are able to break past this.”

Shit. Ten has to admit Lucas knows what he is talking about. He knows way too well how other people’s expectations can weight on your life so much you feel suffocated but there is no chance he’ll ever admit it. He shifts, uncrossing his legs. 

“Get to the point.”

“We aren’t allowed to swerve. No fantasy, no hobbies, no past times. I may look like one of you but I am  _ not  _ you. I’m an android and everything has been made so we are never to forget this. Art is forbidden.”

“Forbidden?”

Don’t get him wrong, Ten doesn’t suddenly care more about the android’s situation than he did an hour ago. But there is a big difference between claiming your whole life that androids can’t create and the fact that they aren’t even allowed to try, no matter how talented they could be. 

“Yes. What did you think?”

“Honestly? That you simply couldn’t create something entirely new,” and Ten doesn’t think he’s ever been this truthful with someone he barely knows. 

“We can,” and it’s almost painful how small Lucas’s voice gets. “We can, but most of us don’t even know how. Hendery and I received a proper education before we were bought and that makes us the lucky ones.” 

Ten sits in silence for a long moment, trying to digest everything that’s been said this evening. The clock is getting closer to midnight with each passing second and neither of them seems to care. They’re here, in the same space, both lost in their thoughts; closer than they’ve ever been. Until Lucas gets up, bringing the empty plate back to the kitchen. When he comes back, he doesn’t sit. He leans against the wall, waiting for Ten to say something. 

“What do you expect of me, then?” he ends up asking, truly more lost now than before they started this whole conversation. 

“Pretend you never saw anything.”

_ That’s it _ , Ten thinks, and it should be easy. Pretend that things that shake up his entire world don’t exist is his favourite thing to do, it should be easy. It has been, so far. As easy as pretending androids can’t create when he knows perfectly well how wonderstruck he was the first time he saw one of TY’s pieces. As easy as pretending that androids aren’t actual people when it’s so obvious they are. As easy as telling himself every single of his beliefs is right even when proven wrong. 

It will be easy. 

* * *

  
  


Time often proves Ten just how wrong he usually is. Time does it once again. 

Ten doesn’t remember ever having more intrusive thoughts, except that one time his mother told him they’d have chocolate cake for his birthday and he’d had to wait a full week to eat it. This is entirely different, though. 

Ten steps into the café, smiles at Hendery, sits at his table and takes out his sketchbook. He opens it as well as his planner. His eyes linger on his latest sketches and he’ll think of the ones Lucas has spread on the table that night. He pushes the thought away, and Lucas brings him his order. He thanks him and thinks of that night he ate scones sitting on his couch. He draws all afternoon and can’t shake off the thought. 

He notices the lingering gaze the waiter weighs on him when he walks close to his table, how his eyes look at every detail of whatever drawing he’s doing. The curiosity is crawling along his spine, bubbling in his throat, shaking his legs. He wants to know, because he can’t sleep anymore. Because it burns the back of his head when he should be focused. Because he shouldn’t know. 

And he’s always been terrible at behaving, something Kun has always complained about and Sicheng has always loved. They used to laugh at his reckless attempts to satisfy his curiosity but Ten is 100 percent sure they wouldn’t be laughing right now. 

He can’t shake off the thought for days, then weeks, until he decides he needs to know. So he stays longer at the café, waiting for everyone to leave. He gets up casually, walking up to the counter as usual. Hendery is counting the money, storing it in a metal box. He drops a tip in the jar before leaning in. 

“Is Lucas here?”

Hendery looks at him with his forever surprised eyes before pointing to the back of the shop. 

“He’s cleaning the kitchens. Do you need something?”

“Can you ask him to wait for me outside when he’s done? Please?”

“Ugh. Yeah, right, sure.”

Hendery looks at him as he walks out, and even as he stands outside at the bus stop. He takes out one of the reference artbooks he’s taken with him and sits down to read through it. He notices when the lights go out in the café but he doesn’t hear Lucas walking up to him. 

“What did you want?”

Ten looks up. The nights are growing warmer and Lucas is only wearing a half-buttoned up shirt with a white cardigan. His hair is just as messy as usual but the dirty white lights of the bus stop makes it look almost proper. 

“I need to ask you something.”

“Can it wait until tomorrow? It’s my day off,” and Ten remembers, because tomorrow is Wednesday and the café is closed for inventory day. 

“I’m busy tomorrow.”

Lucas sighs but his face is wearing a smile. He frowns a bit, rubbing his eyes, before shrugging. 

“Come over then?” 

It’s almost not a question, and Ten knows he wanted him to ask but he is still surprised he does so. He follows once again, this time trying to remember how to get there. Out of curiosity. He reads the names of the streets and the names at the building door. He reads the number on his door and properly takes off his shoes. They sit on the couch again, and this time Ten notices the blanket neatly folded on one of the armrests. 

“This wasn’t here last time.”

“It needed to be washed. Tea?”

“Yes, please,” and it still feels odd to address Lucas the way he would anyone else but he’s getting better at it every single time. 

Lucas comes back with a tray and puts it down on the coffee table. He is still pouring tea in their cups when Ten grabs a piece of brownies. 

“I love those.”

“I know.” 

“Oh, right. Of course,” Ten whispers, feeling stupid when he remembers is usual order is composed of an almond milk latte and two pieces of hazelnut brownies. 

“So?”

“Yes. Hm, this is delicate.” Ten leans in to grab his cup of tea. “I know I promised not to talk about it again, but it’s been bothering me for weeks now, and…” 

Ten suddenly stops, getting up to grab the bag he left near the door. He fishes his sketchbook from it and a couple of pencils, before sitting on the floor next to Lucas’s legs. He opens the book, putting it down on the table. 

“Here. You kept looking at this today, right?”

“Ugh, yeah…” Lucas mumbles, surprised. 

“Why?” 

“Why what?”

“Why were you looking at it? Why do you look at me drawing when you’re the one who told me to forget about it all?” 

Lucas laughs a little, and for once it’s not detached. He looks almost embarrassed, or maybe Ten is overinterpreting his reaction. 

“I was looking at you before.”

Ten raises an eyebrow as he sees Lucas blush furiously, taken aback by such an expression. 

“Is that all you wanted to know?”

“No,” Ten answers mysteriously, putting his drawings back where they were supposed to. “I want to see yours.”

“Pardon?”

“You spent so much looking at my art so it’s only fair I see yours.”

Lucas obviously tenses, shoulders squared and back straightened. The atmosphere grows thicker as they look at each other and don’t speak, not a sound escaping their mouths. Lucas is the first to break the exchange, getting up to walk to a room Ten hasn’t seen yet. He assumes it’s the bedroom, and wonders if it looks just as dull as the rest of the apartment. If there are pictures like the ones he put so carefully in the photobook. If he displays his art or hides it away in a box under his bed. If he as a bed at all. 

He wants to ask so many questions, so many that burn his tongue and whirl around in his mind when he tries to focus. He doesn’t say anything when Lucas comes back. He displays a bunch of stray sheets on the table, big hands running through his hair as soon as Ten leans in to look them over. 

“Is that all?”

“You really don’t get it, right? It’s too dangerous, I can’t risk anyone finding those. I keep only a few hidden in my bedroom.”

“Why show them to me, then?” Ten asks softly, fingers running over the paper. He doesn’t sense the inner turmoil inside of Lucas, but he sees his fear and despair when he turns to him. “Why do you even trust me with this?”

Lucas simply smiles in return, but doesn’t answer. He puts the drawings aside along with the food and now empty cups of tea. 

“Are you happy now?”

“Not really. I was simply curious.”

“Curiosity satisfied?”

Lucas stands tall near the couch, light on his back. He’s intimidating, though he shows no sign of aggressivity. His eyes, however, are darker now than they were just a mere minute ago and Ten straightens up. In the blinding light of the living room, with the tiredness of weeks of bad sleep running in his veins, he forgets why he was trying so hard to tame his curiosity. 

“Not yet. Why do you draw if it could cost you the life you have right now? Why do you trust me enough to tell me this when you know how badly I’ve spoken of androids? Why did you notice me when I know there are other artists who frequently come to the café?”

“That’s a lot more curiosity than I thought,” Lucas notes with a faint touch of laughter in his voice. 

He goes to answer before a ringtone interrupts him immediately, Lucas turning to the door immediately.

“Stay here.”

He hides the drawings between two books on the shelves and then heads for the door. A few knocks are heard before he opens softly. Ten assumes it must be people he knows as he obviously sighs with relief and opens the door further, letting the people in. He recognises one of them as Hendery but can’t remember having ever seen the other, smaller boy. 

“I didn’t know you had company,” he remarks with disdain, dropping his coat on a chair. 

“It’s not like you bothered to ask.” 

“Sorry, we were around and Yang wanted to see you.”

Lucas shrugs and closes the door. Ten feels all eyes turn to him, but no matter how embarrassed and unwelcome he feels, he stands up with his head held high. 

“I was leaving.”

“You were?” Lucas stumbles upon his words and Ten rolls his eyes up. Idiot. 

“See you Thursday. Thank you for the tea.” 

With that, Ten takes his leave, heads more full of questions than before and ears ringing with the exclamations from the other boy resonating in the hallway. He needs to know even more. 

* * *

  
  


Curiosity is a dangerous thing, surreptitiously creeping in all the nooks of his mind. Ten isn’t one to let himself be taken over so easily, but his mind focused on more important matters, he does end up sleepless, head full of questions without answers. 

He spends the next week as usual, painting and drinking coffee, smiling at Hendery and protesting at everything Kun said. He busies himself to avoid thinking too much, which is so easy to do it almost works. 

Almost. 

Until it doesn’t anymore, and then he tortures himself with memories of Lucas’s art and endless questions he’ll never ask. Because Lucas has been clear, and since that day has made sure they would only interact strictly as customer and waiter. The fact that the situation is frustrating him is infuriating enough in itself, but the worst part is that he has to pretend he is fine with it.

Because he should be. 

It should have been easy, to go back to normal. It should have been everything he could ask for, because he hates change, especially when it’s uncalled for. It should have flowed like water on rocks, smooth and clear. Yet it doesn’t. It’s a heavy burden to wear every day at the café, scratching at his throat when he tries to speak and filling his eyes with unwelcomed tears. 

He doesn’t want to dwell on his feelings too much; it rarely ends well for him. This time, however, he might have to be truthful about what he feels and it makes him hate the situation even more. 

How could he tell an android, whom he’s spent his entire life belittling, that he’s opened his eyes to the truth and he wants to get to know him and his friends and his life because he’s losing sleep over it? 

In those words. He could simply come up to Lucas and say exactly this. 

“But you won’t.”

“Shut up, Kun. I already had to give up my pride to tell you all this, there is no way I’m doing it a second time.”

He doesn’t see him from where he is lying on the carpet at the feet of the couch but he knows his friend is rolling his eyes up. 

“You’ll have to do something about it eventually.”

“No, I won’t. I can stop going to the café and change city and change name and disappear entirely from this country.”

“Or you can stop being childish and communicate properly.”

“Ugh. Ugh. No I can’t,” Ten complains, rolling on his side to bury his face in a pillow and keep on groaning his despear. 

“I hate you,” Kun throws his way as he closes the door to the kitchen. 

“Kun! Let me annoy you, please. How else am I supposed to deal with my feelings if I can’t tell you about it?!” he yells from his position on the floor. He never knew this carpet was so soft. 

“Handle them yourself, I’m done!” Kun yells back, door still closed, before Ten hears the key being turned in the lock. He’s well aware of how childish they can both be, it makes him feel somewhat lighter. At least one thing is as usual. 

He rolls on his other side, facing the couch, to get lost in his own thoughts. He is aware of his feelings, what they mean, why he feels them; he’s figured out that much. However he still needs to pluck up courage to tell Lucas all about it. It’s a strange and vertiginous feeling, growing inside of him with each passing second, to think he’s readying himself to talk about his actual feelings with an android.

With someone. 

Someone who’s not Kun. Someone who might reject him. Someone who might laugh at him for his foolishness, because that’s what it is. Foolish. Reckless. Ludicrous and senseless. All things that Ten is accustomed with, having most of his life and the entirety of his artist career being reckless and counting on Kun to save him if needed. 

Except now. He can’t count on Kun to save, only to wipe his tears in the worst case. He can only count on himself and his ability to get his point across, which has proven to be quite useless until then. 

Maybe it is time for him to grow up and learn from his mistakes. 

* * *

  
  


Ten could probably explain what led him to this situation. 

Yet the mere thought of trying to make sense of it makes his head hurt, so he sits down in an old leather couch and sighs heavily. 

He’s met plenty of artists, been to plenty of art studios, been through plenty of different work habits ; this is something else entirely. It’s crowded, art pieces hanging from the ceiling or on the walls, some other leaning on the furniture, and the rest scattered on the tables. The smell of paint and solvent are intoxicating, filling his nose and getting to his head. But even in the middle of this mess, his eyes are stuck on everything Lucas. 

It’s an odd feeling that has been creeping inside his heart for days, how ironic it is that he is now unable to stop himself from looking at him. Every little thing that is him, whether his own person or his art, his laughter from the other side of the room, his handwriting on the small notes he leaves him with his food. 

He hates every part of it. 

He is still sitting here, between Lucas and Hendery, on a rundown couch in the basement of an old building in the middle of the one part of the city he’s never stepped into. It is obviously the worst idea he’s ever had and he hasn’t even told Kun, which says a lot about how much he is risking. But Lucas is looking at him with the biggest smile and he’s said at least three times how happy he was that Ten had agreed to come, so it can’t be that bad.

Can it?

“What are we waiting for?”

“Oh, just Yangie. He’s been asking to meet you properly.”

Right. He’s heard of Yangyang, and he has to admit he is curious too. Curious, and worried, because he’s learned he is an underground artist famous for hating every Regular. Nothing can go wrong there. 

“Right,” Ten mumbles. “Right.” 

* * *

  
  


Meeting Yangyang is nothing like he thought. 

It’s messier and louder, and maybe Ten feels out of place for the first time of his life but when he leaves the building his head is full of stories and, somehow, hope.

Lucas is walking next to him, insisting on taking him back home. It’s not really dangerous at night for Ten, but it’s a little chilly and he could get lost. They don’t speak much, both reflecting on everything they’ve learnt tonight. Ten never thought he’d be ready to admit androids were able to actually create art in the same way he does, and yet he spent half the evening listening to Yangyang talk about his inspiration and his work. 

“There is still something I quite don’t understand,” he whispers softly, and Lucas turns to him with a smile.

“Tell me.”

“If you can create art… I mean, you’re just like me right?” Lucas nods, and he keeps talking. “So we’re basically the same,” and Ten tries to forget how it sounds to him, “except for how we were born, but that’s just a detail at this point. I just want to know, why are you treated like this? Why is there such a huge discrimination if we’re all the same?”

Lucas is still looking at him but he has stopped walking. They’re standing at a street corner and the streetlamps are all turned off; it’s late. He’s holding his hand now and Ten wills his brain to turn off, stop thinking, because he doesn’t want to know how it makes him feel. Feeling is already hard enough at this moment. 

“We all wish we knew, Ten. Yangyang would explain this better than I do, but… the wrong people got their hands on androids, and they decided to create us for the wrong purposes. It’s all circumstances, and it was presented in such a way no one would think it was unfair. I mean, look at you.” 

And Ten feels the pang of guilt in his stomach, but Lucas is right: look at him, the perfect example of the fool who only sees what is convenient. The perfect example of the fool who prefers to believe what is safe instead of looking right at the truth. Yet here he stands, in front of this beautiful tall android, looking at him as if for the first time, more in love than he ever thought he’d be. 

“Thank you for giving me a chance, Lucas.”

“Don’t mention it,” Lucas answers with a shrug, squeezing his hand a couple of times before walking again. “I knew I could trust you.”

“How? I was pretty much a bitch, honestly,” Ten admits in a laugh. 

“Because you were with Kun.”

Ten stops once again, truly puzzled. What has Kun to do with this? 

“What has Kun to do with this?” 

“You don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

“Ugh,” and this time Lucas looks really embarrassed, face flushed, “I don’t think I should be the one telling you if you don’t know that. But I really thought you knew, ok? I never would hide something from you?”

Ten looks at him for a few seconds, scrutinising, before deciding it’s something to be settled later. It’s so late it’s almost morning, and he’s tired and heavy with feelings he wants to get rid off. It’s been too much information at a time, so much he just wants to rest and get some sleep. He looks back and sees they’ve reached his apartment. 

“Alright, let’s drop it. Thank you for tonight.”

“No, really, thank you Ten. You let me show you all this and you believed us. Trust me, it’s rare enough to be appreciated.” 

“Is it just my support you appreciate?” 

“What? No, of course, I… You… I mean…” 

Lucas has turned fully red, hands fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. Ten chuckles at his obvious embarrassment, grabbing his hand again. He pulls on it a bit, taking three steps towards his building. He isn’t sure he’s doing the right thing, but he knows he’s doing what he wants. He’ll dwell on whether what he wants is the right thing later.

“Come up with me?”

“Up there?”

“Where else, dummy.” Ten pulls again, but Lucas doesn’t budge. “I’m inviting you.”

Lucas laughs but it comes out strangled. His hair is the messiest Ten has ever seen it, and in the pale, almost absent light of the night fading away, it looks soft. He extends his other hand, just to see, because the curiosity hasn’t left him for a second and he’s too tired to put it aside. The hair is soft, so soft, he gets lost in the feeling for a moment, before Lucas protests. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, but it sounds like a pleading, soundless whimper. 

“Inviting you. Don’t you want to come?” 

Ten is playing a dangerous, but granted he’s been playing this game since the first time he accepted to follow Lucas to his apartment. He has no reason to stop now and no will to do so. He agreed to follow him first, now it’s Lucas’s turn. 

“O- Of course, I want to, but…” 

Ten decides to throw the last of his resolve away, because seriously, Lucas is taking his sweet time understanding all the signs he’s been giving, and his feet hurt from walking so much. He just wants to sleep, and if Lucas is too dumb to accept his invitation to sleep over, well that’s on him. 

“Lucas, are you going to come to my apartment and kiss me until we’re too tired, or are you going to play dumb and go back home without me?”

“Oh. Oh, right. Right.”

Lucas blushes some more, and Ten almost calls him cute, but maybe he isn’t as tired as he thought. Lucas, however, seems to have gathered his courage, because he walks up to Ten again, kiss him on the cheek and pulls him to the building. 

Maybe it isn’t as bad as Ten thought. 

* * *

  
  


The soft music coming from the speakers in the living room can still be heard from his room. Ten is standing in front of the mirror, trying very hard to tie his bowtie properly. And failing. Kun sighs heavily, getting up to help him instead. 

“What would you do without me?”

“Not much.” 

“Glad we both agree on that.”

Ten snorts but smiles at his friend. This exposition is the biggest one he’s ever attended, and he knows how great of an honour it is for his art to be shown there. He’s feeling anxious, more than usual, but Kun is here. Lucas will come to. It’ll be fine. 

“I heard TY is going to attend, too.”

“Yes. First time in a while, he usually doesn’t show up.” 

“So I’ve heard. I’ve never seen him. Have you?”

“A couple of times,” Kun answers evasively.

“Kun.” Ten turns around, placing the bowtie properly. “Lucas told me some months ago he trusted me the first time we talked because he’d seen me with you.”

“And?”

“What did he mean by that?” 

Kun sighs heavily, sitting down on the bed. He looks weirder than Ten has ever seen him, and he’s seen him go through many things. He stays standing near the mirror, listening to his friend.

“You remember that year you spent abroad for your studies?”

“Yeah, it’s the year you broke up with Sicheng.”

“No need to remind me. Well, the reason we broke up was because of TY.”

“Are you dating him?!” 

Ten knows how ridiculous it sounds, but Kun is so serious that for a second, it sounds almost plausible.

“Of course not,” he corrected with a sincere laugh, “we’re friends. Sort of. Anyway, I met him that year, and we got close. I loved his art, he loved my art hall project. When he decided to try and be a full-time artist, I decided to promote him and pay for his artworks. Sicheng disliked the idea, and we argued about it for a long time, until… You know the rest of the story.”

Ten decides to sit down. He looks at his friend, who looks almost apologetic. To be frank, if he had been hiding something from him for that long, he’d definitely look the same. He sure didn’t look any better when he decided to tell Kun about dating Lucas. 

“In other words, you’re the reason TY got his art career?”

“Yeah. Word spread in the android artist community, and now they know they can trust me when it comes to that.”

“Does that mean I have to thank you for having Lucas as my boyfriend?”

“Please, Ten, you have to thank me for absolutely everything in your life.”

Ten snorts, and Kun laughs along. They’re back to normal. 

Frankly enough, Ten doesn’t think his life could ever go back to what he used to think was normal. But laughing with his childhood friend, getting ready to attend one of fanciest art shows in the city to present his latest art pieces, driving to go pick up his boyfriend, all of this could very much amount to his new normal. He never thought he’d end up like this, but judging from all the nonsense he always thought was true, Ten doesn’t think his judgement was worth much. 

He loves is life as it is now, and is trying his best to improve Lucas’s. It’s what matters most. It’s all that matters. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this, thank you to the fest mods for bearing with me, and big thanks to my sister because I wouldn't have been finished this without her.
> 
> [tumblr](https://umiwomitai.tumblr.com) [twt](https://twitter.com/_tildawn) [cc](https://curiouscat.me/umiwomitai)


End file.
